


Catra's Play

by KriegsaffeNo9



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Cameos, Crack, Detectives, F/F, Gen, M/M, Mash-up, Non-Explicit Vomiting, Parody, Possum!, Public Masturbation, Public Nudity, Slime, Strip Tease, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping, Vomiting, Yes That Does Say Entrapta Slash Paper Star Up There, movie parody, played for laughs, slightly graphic violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-06-03 01:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19453747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KriegsaffeNo9/pseuds/KriegsaffeNo9
Summary: When the famous murderer/thief/general-issue criminal Catra the Ray hits the end of the line, she takes the only logical course of action: jam her consciousness into a doll, then get revenge while stuck in a doll body.  And naturally she has wound up in the loving arms and firm bosom of Adora, ordinary human earth... person.Hilarity ensues!A parody of/tribute to the Child's Play series, in addition to being a weird sex comedy.





	1. The Tragically Necessary Origin Story

It was a bitterly cold night in Chicago, between a late night and an early morning. It was the year 1988 on the planet Earth.

Got that? Good.

The night was calm, the world rimed with ice, and there was a high-speed car chase going on, so that was nice.

"Sheee _eeeeiiiiiiiit_!" Catra said as the car launched over the hill, getting five precious seconds of air time before slamming back onto the road, crushing a pedestrian on a moped. "Ow, fuck, I think that compressed my spine!"

Det. Ins. Bow Williams's trusty Studebaker landed right behind them, much more gently by double-jumping just before hitting the road. The mighty detective stood astride his car's hood, arrow nocked and taking aim.

"And we didn't even lose him!" Catra said. "What was that all about?"

"I have a plan, child," Shadow Weaver said, chomping on a cigar, which necessitated her stylish crime mask riding high on her face and thus blinding her.

"Do you, Shadow Weaver? Do you?!" An arrow punched through the back window and impaled Catra through the stomach. "Ow, fuck! _Come on_!"

"SURRENDER AND THIS WILL BE A LOT FASTER!" Bow said, struggling to be heard over two roaring engines and whistling wind and screaming and cheering pedestrians.

Catra pushed herself off the arrow, rolled down the window, leaned out the window, and flipped him two birds. "EAT MY ENTIRE CAT-THEMED ASS!" she said, and Shadow Weaver kicked her out the window as Bow shot her in the ribcage. She rolled fifteen feet, cursing the entire way, and hit the back wheels of a truck.

Shadow Weaver thundered off and Bow steered his car in for a landing. Catra scrambled away, her thoughts all shoved to the back of her head by intense pain. She crossed her fingers and hoped that one of the better gods was watching out for her tonight.

She kicked in the door and witnessed row after row and display after display of topical, nostalgic 80s toys. A toy store!

...okay, that was like choice five on her list but it was a damn sight better than a bank or a police station.

Bow hopped off his car and shot her through the back. Again.

"Ow, fuck! Like give me a minute, dude!" Catra said, running into the toy store looking for the right thing for her needs.

Despite the famously labyrinthine structure of the average toy store, Catra could not stop running into Bow and getting shot. Frankly, it was starting to piss her off. When she stumbled past an aisle of Some Little Ponies Which Are Not Necessarily Yours she took a third arrow through the chest.

"Gotcha!" Bow said.

Catra sputtered and held up a hand. "Okay, time out! Time out, guy!"

Bow lowered his namesake weapon. He set his jaw firmly, his majestic mustache gleaming in the light. "Very well," he said; he was doing a voice of some kind. Ye olde knight, maybe? "What are you proposing, foul rogue?"

She went for the metaphorical brass ring. "So, you're an honorable guy, yeah?"

"Famously! One does not make Inspector Detective Bounty-Hunter-In-Chief M.D. without honor!"

"Okay. How about this." She pointed at a gigantic board game box. "I challenge you to a game of Fireball Island. Winner goes free."

"I mean," Bow said, "I'm already free, but then I would be additionally free to capture you, I presume!"

"Yeah. Sure. I'm losin' a lot of blood over here, I'm not the most articulate I could be."

"I understand your intent and I accept your challenge." He took a seat on the floor opposite Catra as she cracked open the box and set up the board.

Catra smiled inwardly. No way could he beat her at Fireball Island even with fifteen arrows jutting through her vital organs.

* * *

Bow landed his little adventurer on the raft space. "Victory!" Bow said.

"Dammit," Catra said, sulking.

Bow reached for his longbow. "Anyhow, where was I..."

"Wait!" Catra said. Bow shot her through a lung. "Ow, fuck!"

"Oops, sorry. What was that you were saying?"

"Just..." Catra hacked blood onto the game board. "Fuck. Just give me a minute to... pray... to... my... god. And then I'll go quietly."

"Well, I can't say no to that! I'll just be..." He cleared his throat. He cleared his throat even more. "I'll just be waiting here."

"Cool. Sure." Catra climbed to her feet, using the shelves as help, and slumped away, scanning the shelves for anything that would work for her purposes. The arrows jutting out of her brushed product off the shelves in her wake..

When she rounded the bend, Bow removed his mustache. He detached the secret pen from the secret journal and narrated aloud as he wrote. "Dear War Journal, I have one-half of the infamous crime duo in my sights! Well, she's doing her last rights and all, but that's mercy for you. Pretty sure I'm gonna get mad bank for turning her in. I think I will treat myself for being so consistent and dramatic with target takedowns lately. I think I might make Orthodox Commander any day now..."

* * *

"Jesus Christ," Catra said, "I can't believe I can actually walk this well. I got..." She counted. "Man, two arrows straight through the thigh bone? How am I even able to walk, like, mechanically?"

Physics caught up to her statement and she collapsed on the hard ground.

"Stupid. Shoulda kept quiet..."

She crawled with her one good arm. A wall of discount He-Man toys was on the far side of the aisle, next to a wall of discount She-Ra toys. So close. So close to something she wouldn't mind casting the spell on...

She could feel the life force leave her body. No time. Have to go with what's in arm's reach.

She held out her good hand and grabbed the nearest box and felt the connection begin. Well, shit. Might as well. She didn't know if it was a popular toy or not, so she had to cross her fingers and hope.

She curled up against the box and cast the spell.

Far overhead, clouds billowed over the toy store.

" _Oh potente Gesù, mago ebreo dall'Italia..._ " Catra said, her voice echoing, lightning striking as she channeled primal forces. " _...dammi il potere o ti prenderò a **calci all'inguine!**_ "

Lightning struck the toy store, which exploded.

"What was that?" Bow said, aware that he was now standing in a pile of rubble. A single intact toy, mint in box, lay astride the wreckage. He tucked his mustache back into place and approached it with arrow nocked, ready to shoot the hell out of it just in case Catra had fit herself into a piece of foot-tall doll packaging with the doll in full visibility.

He prodded the front window. He checked the box top flap. He whistled and looked away, rocking back and forth on his heels. 'Gee, sure would suck if Catra the Ray jumped out of that box and killed me while my back was turned."

Nothin'.

"Alright, you're comin' with me."

* * *

The next morning, in their dingy apartment (technically owned by Glimmer's mom, but they lived there too, you know?), Adora and Glimmer were up early eating giant bowls of sugary cereal and waiting for Saturday morning cartoons to begin in earnest. Living the dream.

"Life is good," Adora said out of nowhere as commercials began.

"Pretty good, in general," Glimmer said. "Wish that mom would start buying better cereal..."

"I think it's alright," Adora said.

"You think _roofing tar_ is alright. This stuff tastes like if raisins were alive and hated what they'd become and expressed it by going to the bathroom all over the cereal they live in."

Adora stared at her.

"It's early, I get loquatious," Glimmer said. "Hey, the news!"

Indeed, it was the news. A local newscaster smiled ear-to-ear and said, "Welcome to the 4:55 News However Long This Is Going To Take! In the hour's top story, the nation's most wanted murder-thief, Catra the Ray, has finally been slain and her bounty claimed by local legend Bow Williams!"

The footage switched to the handsome, mustachioed Bow standing proud atop the ruins of a toy store (judging from the smoldering action figure arms reaching from the debris). A ring of excited civilians cheered him on from the sidelines. The same anchor had somehow covered miles of distance--or maybe this was recorded earlier--and held out her arm and said, "Mr. Williams! How did you apprehend Catra?"

"Well," Bow said, "I shot her a bunch and then when she ran out of hit points she exploded." He held up a mostly-intact box. "This was her item drop on death."

"Oh, a Catto's Play doll!" the anchor said. "The hot new item this winter season, sure to be a great gift for anyone in your life who needs a doll of a cat person! Are you going to give it to the police or anything?"

"Nah," Bow said, with a dismissive hand gesture. "I'm gonna give this free to one of my lucky fans." He spun around and flung the box into the crowd. "Yeet!"

A purple-skinned angel wearing a thong and a white masquerade mask and nothing else flew above the clamoring crowd and grabbed the box effortlessly, her skin alight with glitter in the stage lighting offered by the cameras.

"Good catch, m'am!" Bow said, saluting.

"Thank you, sir, and thank you for your service to this city!" the angel said, saluting.

"Think nothing of it!" Bow said. "May I--ahem--pardon, m'am, may I practice my detective skills on you, m'am, for the education of the audience at home?"

"Of course," the angel said, coming to a landing nearer to Bow.

"If I may speculate," Bow said, "based on your particular mode of dress, you arrived here from there." He indicated a strip club next to the toy shop, Heaven's Night.

The crowd gasped.

"Why--yes!" the angel said.

"I need only one detail more--are there any male strippers at this establishment?"

"No, but you may be thinking of the Brass Monkey," the angel said, indiciating the all-male strip club with an obscene sign two doors down, past the school supply shop.

Bow laughed heartily. "A ha! A ha, yes. I will certainly be aiming for Heaven's Night once I park my car. I wouldn't be caught dead in a men's strip club! I mean--a strip club where the men are the ones being naked. Definitely wouldn't be there, and even if I were, I would be investigating a crime and not just looking at the men taking their clothes off while I am in disguise as my nonexistant sister. I should be going. Goodbye!" He waved and hiked back to his car. "Also that toy should be absolutely safe! I got a good feeling!"

The camera zoomed in on the angel, and in particular the Catto's Play toy box. Inside the packaging, the doll chuckled. "Heh... safe. I'm safe, alright. All kinds of safe. Like a gun with the safety on. One click and blam! Killin' time comes nigh, or my name isn't..." The doll swiveled to look at the camera. "The hell are you lookin' at, toots?"

The feed cut back to the news room; the news anchor fell back into her chair, soaked with sweat and panting. "Yeah... huff... that... that happened. And now..." She fumbled with her stack of papers. "Cartoons. Yeah. Cartoons."

"Did that naked angel look kinda like your mom?" Adora said.

"One," Glimmer said, holding up a finger, "she _clearly_ wasn't my mom. Mom wouldn't be caught dead with her tits hanging out. And two, she's not my mom because I don't want to have seen my mom's boobs."

The door opened, and Glimmer's mom, Angella, stepped through. She was breathless, sweaty, and faintly sparkling with glitter, clad in her typical going-to-work trenchcoat and carrying a large box. "Hello Glimmer, hello Adora!" she said.

"Yo, ma! How was work?" Glimmer said.

"Oh, you know. Just another day at the big box store." She set the box on the coffee table. "Look what I happened to stumble upon!"

It was a Catto's Play doll, mint in box aside from some light lightning scorching. The doll inside was fidgeting. "Hey," the doll said.

"Oh, what a coincidence," Glimmer said, setting her cereal down. "There was some stripper on TV who got a--"

"Coincidentally," Angella said. "Pure coincidence. Your mother has a respectable line of work. I... bought this doll... from a hobo in an alley behind the toy store. He said a murderer gave it to him. Yes, that's the ticket."

Glimmer nodded. "Yes, mom. That is, in fact, the ticket."

"Now pardon me, I must very thoroughly shower." Angella sped off to the bathroom.

Adora beat Glimmer to the box, peeling the sticker open and pulling out the Catto's Play doll.

The doll was a cylinder covered in brown fur. One end had two beady black eyes, a beady black nose that may also have been a third eye, and an articulated flap for a mouth. At its opposite end it had a limp length of cloth for a tail and a pair of ears. The eyes angled down, maybe, judging from the fanit clicking of doll machinery. If Adora didn't know any better, she'd have sworn the doll was looking down her shirt.

"Hey, doll," Adora said. "You guys are supposed to come with names, right? What's your name?"

"Oh, I'm Cat...ra. Shit!" The doll squirmed in her grasp. "I mean--ha ha, you know--"

"Man, you share a name with that serial murder-thief that Bow just put down?" Adora said. "What bad luck."

"Yes! Exactly! Thank you for understanding, sugar tits. I mean... sugar... eye... brows. What's your name, Sugar Eyebrows?"

"I'm Adora," Adora said, looking for something like a hand to shake and settling on her tail.

"And I'm--" Glimmer said.

"Later, later," Catra said. "How 'bout we introduce ourselves with a hug, Adora?"

"Sure!" Adora said, hugging the doll tight to her chest.

"Yeeeeahhh," Catra the doll purred, "just like that."

"Ahem," Glimmer said. "Like I said, I'm Glimmer!"

Adora handed off the tubedoll. "Wait," Catra said, "I think my instru--" Glimmer hugged her much more tightly than Adora had. Catra wheezed. "Dude... check... the box..."

Indeed, emblazoned on the box was a proud slogan: NO FAT CHICKS!

"Too bad," Glimmer said, flopping onto the couch with Catra firmly in arms.

In her head, Catra started a new list and put Glimmer at the top of it. It was a list titled...

_People I Am Super Going To Kill While I Am Stuck In A Doll._

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED.................


	2. The Next Part (This Is That Part)

Adora slotted in the tape and hit play. It was brand new, the image crisp, no stuttering or lines, and the TV had decent audio. Thus the ensuing program was not even a little bit a e s t h e t i c .

The video opened on the Catto's Playhouse, the live-action one from the start and end of every episode of the same-titled cartoon. Front and center was the live action hostess Cat-sandra, in her bright costume and with her huge breasts. "Welcome to the Catto's Play VHS instruction manual! We're gonna learn all about your amazing new toy. No two Cattos are alike!" She held up a toy that looked exactly like Catra. "Your Catto says up to ten amazing random phrases!"

She squeezed the toy. It said in a gruff, masculine voice, "Two bucks for a taco? That's highway robbery!" She squeezed it again. "Christ, I could use a massage." Again: "Two bucks for a taco? That's highway robbery!" Again: "Two bucks for a taco--"

She set the doll aside. "Now, let's look at the contents of your toy box--"

The TV switched channels.

"Hey!" Adora said.

"Whoops," Catra said, rolling off the remote. "Sorry about that. Hard to not roll around. I tube."

"S'aright," Adora said, changing the channel back to three.

"--and the VHS instruction manual you're seeing right now!" Cat-sandra said. "Now that that's out of the way, let's check out your Catto's biggest action feature: she really eats! Just put any denomination larger than a penny near her mouth, and..." She pulled a quarter from her cleavage and held it up to the doll's awful flap-mouth. The mouth opened and a powerful vacuum sucked the quarter inside.

The doll glowed and turned into a slightly-less-shitty-looking doll.

"That's right! Your Catto's Play doll can evolve into a superior form every time she eats a random amount of money! She can do all sorts of amazing things once she evolves, and all she has to do is gobble up some loose change, dollar bills, or unattended checkbooks!" A disclaimer flashed on the screen, accidentally(?) cropped too low to make out. "Just look!" she said, squeezing the new, slightly-less-shitty-looking doll.

"Two bucks for a taco?" the doll said. "That's highway robbery!"

Cat-sandra placed the doll behind her and tried to look natural. "That about covers it! Now, go on and have lots of fun with your new Catto's Play doll from your friends at Mattel! Remember: _It's From Mattel, So It Probably Doesn't Suck Or Anything(tm)._ "

"Aren't I just the coolest," Catra said.

"Yeah, you're pretty neat," Adora said, patting the top of the doll. "Even for a second-hand murderer's doll."

Catra chuckled. "Yep... second-hand. Not one hand closer."

Glimmer stepped in from the kitchen with a freshly-opened cardboard insert from Catra's box in her hands. "I finally got the accessory kit open! There were so damn many twist ties I thought I was gonna get... what's the hand-hurty one called again? It's not Tourette's, it's..." She snapped her fingers. "Carpal tunnel! Corpal tunnel? It's one of those. Anyway, check this out!" She opened the box's flap, revealing little accessories for Catra.

"What do I got in there?" Catra said, flopping her way onto the top of the sofa.

"Let's see..." Glimmer said. "Some Q-tips... a cup and saucer... a toy catalog for more accessories... a Ka-Bar knife, but just a little plastic one... a hammer..." She picked it out of the box. It whistled in the air, ominously.

"We gotta introduce Catra to my other dolls, it'll be so cute!" Adora said, picking up the robot cat doll. "Do you have any interaction thingeys with other dolls?"

"Set me down and we'll see," Catra said. "I bet I'm full of cool shit."

Angella watched her daughter and adopted daughter from the comfort and safety of the threshold to her room. It was rough supporting two college hopefuls on a one-stripper income, but it was worth it for precious moments of bonding over tube-shaped toys.

She sipped her Sleepytime tea and let the warmth suffuse her system.

Adora and Glimmer stepped out of their room a few seconds later. "Sorry," Adora said, "We got a little over-excited with the hammer."

"We... we got insurance, right?" Glimmer said, trying to press her severed hand against its stump.

"Yes, honey," Angella said. "The... the big box store has shockingly good insurance. I'll make a call."

* * *

Aunt Casta sauntered into the apartment. "Ahoy-hoy~" she said. "How are we tonight, girls?"

"Hand... off..." Glimmer said, looking rather paler than normal.

"Oh, right. Here you go!" Casta said, throwing her keys at Adora, who snatched them out of the air. "Drive safe, not a scratch, eh? And maybe wrap a few towels around that arm, wet-vacs are noisy, dears!"

"Sure!" Glimmer said, slumping into Adora's arms. Adora swept her into a bridal carry. "...syuuuure..."

"Be are be," Adora said, rushing the window and jumping out.

Angella yawned. "Ahh, thank you for showing up on such short notice, Castaspella. I'm already very sleepy already, so I can't exactly watch the house."

"Of course, of course." She pat Angella's shoulder. "You go ahead and take a nice long stripper sleep and rest those gams up for tonight."

Angella thought. "Beautiful as you are, I admit, I can't help but wonder if it is quite strange that after my husband perished tragically in the Psychic Wars, my next love interest is his day-drunk sister."

"Well, sweetie bird, it's no less weird than your adopted daughter dating your regular daughter."

"They--excuse me?!"

"Ah, crap..." Casta said, digging around in her pocket. "Take a deep breath," she said, and blew sparkling powder into her face.

Angella took a reflexive breath and sputtered. "Gaah! It itches... what is... What were we talking about?"

"You needing to sleep, sleepyhead."

Angella yawned. "Yes, indeed. Good night, and thank you for house-sitting." She returned to the comfort of her bed.

"Nighty-night, birdie," Castaspella said, closing the door. "And now, margaritas."

* * *

Glimmer and Adora stepped out of Horse Heart Hospital, the ol' Triple H Building (not the Triple H Building built in Nashua, New Hampshire; that would be years in the future, but not many). Glimmer flexed her wrist. "Alright--that hammer is super not safe. We should register a complaint."

"Eh, later," Adora said, putting her arm around Glimmer. "Well, our morning's shot, but our mid-morning's wide and clear. Wanna go ice skating in the park? Wanna go to the arcade and blow a few bucks?"

"I don't wanna do either with my wrist all jacked up," Glimmer said. "How's about we just make out at the library while we listen to kid's storybooks on the read-along machines?"

"Hell yeah," Adora said, slapping Glimmer's ample ass.

* * *

Castaspella poured herself a fresh pint of frozen margaritas, dropping in a curly straw and a paper umbrella to complete it. "Livin' the dream," she said, reclining on the couch and taking a long sip. She felt for the remote and wondered if there was anything good on TV, or at least entertainingly strange.

In Adora and Glimmer's room, Catra rolled along the carpet to reach the hammer where it lay. She picked it up in her mouth; it made a soft, satisfying shnnk! as she picked it up. Oh yes. Nothing got her blood pumping quite like a razor-sharp hammer in her flap-jaw.

Not that she had blood to pump, but she was imagining it really hard.

She squiggled out through the door, hammer in mouth, towards the living room/kitchen/study/the-one-room-they-had-that-wasn't-a-bedroom-or-the-bathroom. Castaspella was lost in her own world; the TV blared a Saturday morning game show about kids performing life-threatening stunts in an effort to win mid-ranged computers loaded with educational software.

Catra pondered how best to murder this woman--because, yes, it had hardly been twelve hours since her last murder, but she was already soaking wet for more. And she needed the practice.  
She rolled into place--just barely visible on the other side of the coffee table, convincingly like she could have just been there all along but unnoticed. The best to spook her out before increasing the spookiness and then, once she was really spooked out, startle the hell out of her before doing the murder.

As was her idiom, you see.

A child fell from a rickety prop bridge and plummeted to a bed of nails loosely covered in sheets of foam; the show cut to commercial immediately. Casta sighed and set her half-empty pint on the table, sat up, and saw Catra.

"...huh," Casta said, doing the quizzical head tilt thing. "I didn't see you there earlier." She stood up and approached the doll.

As she reached to touch it, Catra shifted positions. The hammer raised ominously into the air with a faint whistle.

Casta shrieked incoherently and ran for the other window. "Aaaaaaah protect me cars!" she said, jumping through the glass and plummeting five stories. Tragically, there was not a car to break her fall.

Just a wooden crate.

Full of spikes.

* * *

Adora and Glimmer drove up to the apartment. Clouds occluded the noontime sky and a delicate snow was beginning to fall, dusting the street with fresh sparkles. There was an ambulance out front.

"Wait a sec," Adora said. "Is that Aunt Casta?"

Indeed, paramedics were loading a spiky Casta onto a stretcher. Adora brought Casta's bitchin' 1969 Dodge Charger to a hairpin stop a foot from the ambulance and rolled down her driver-side window. "Casta!" she said. "You're really gonna splurge on riding in a meatwagon? We were like three minutes from home! ... Not that you had any means of contacting us, since the idea of a portable telephone is frankly insulting for someone in our economic class in the Year of Our Lord 198...something!"

"No, I've been here a few hours," Casta said. "I hate these things too, but, eh, good Samaritans and all..."

"Are you okay?" Glimmer said, crowding out Adora.

"Oh, I'm fine," Casta said. "A little banged up but I'll make it. But just so you know there's a furry cylinder in your house and it spooked the hell out of me. I think it wants to do murders."

"Oh, no, that's my new doll," Adora said. "She's just adjusting. ... and weirdly fixated on boobs. I think it's 'cause the hostess from the cartoon's, like?" She gestured accordingly.

"...you're absolutley sure about that?" Castaspella said. "You're totally certain she's not, like, a murderer?"

"Positively," Adora said.

"Probably," Glimmer said.

"'Ey, lady," the ambulance driver said, "this is America. Cash up front if you wanna go get all your blood put back in." He jiggled a bag full of Casta's blood, freshly vacuumed off the filthy tarmac.

A strange look crossed Casta's face. She felt around her outfit. "...where's my wallet?"

* * *

In her haste, she hadn't noticed her wallet falling out of her tiny, nigh-useless dress pocket as she dove through the window. That's plausible, right?

With considerable effort Catra choked down the entire wallet. She felt its moneyed contents flow through her tube. A great power entered her; she felt her being explode with transformative light.  
She was overcome with a column of polymorphic energies. When it abated, she had... advanced. Iterated. Become new...

She could now hinge in the middle, and had little paws.

"Okay," Catra said. "That could've been better but it coulda been a lot worse."

She waddled up to the couch and climbed up. She could just barely angle herself to touch her mouth, which was a little less horrible, onto the straw, and take a drink. She had to admit, it tasted alright. But who the hell makes a margarita in wintery weather like this? It was clearly the kind of day for a hot toddy, or at least a spicy Bloody Mary. In fact, maybe she could submit a formal complaint--

Adora ran into the apartment, Glimmer right behind. "Catra!" she said. "Did you try to kill Casta?"

"No," Catra lied, "I just walked in and she saw me and she freaked the hell out," she... truthed?

"Yeah, that sounds logical," Glimmer said, sighing. "She hasn't been the same since she ate all those mushrooms."

"Dude, she's tasted of God's flesh?" Catra said.

"No," Adora said, "she's just mildly allergic and found out the hard way. Now she's a little too easy to spook 'cause she doesn't know what else she's allergic to."

"Oh. ... Wanna make margaritas and watch kids hurt themselves on crappy game shows?"

"Sure thing, I'm all kissed out anyway."

"...kissed out with who?"

"Me, Catra," Glimmer said, gently touching Adora's head and tilting it towards her. They kissed, but just a little.

Catra stared.

"What, you don't believe in lesbians?" Adora said.

"No," Catra said. "But it's kind of weird that you're, like, adopted...?"

"Shut the fuck up," Glimmer cooed. An alarm clock went off in Glimmer's back pocket. "Oh, crap! I'm forgetting something!" she said, trying to liberate the clock from her tiny, useless back pocket.

"Right!" Adora said. "We gotta go to that drawing course we took so we can get a start on our college electives."

"Because we're college-aged!" Glimmer said.

"Right!" Adora said.

"Good to know," Catra (age 20) said.

* * *

Bow adjusted his heavy sunglasses as he walked into the flower shop. "Hi," he said, walking past a batch of healthy-looking exotic flowers.

"Can I help you?" Perfuma said, standing behind the counter, all smiles.

"Yeah, can I have a dozen red roses, please?" Bow lifted his sunglasses over his eyes, thus un-disguising his face.

"Oh, hi, Detective Bow, I didn't know it was you!" Perfuma said. She held out her hands and a bouquet of gorgeous black roses appeared with a rising musical tone. "Wait, hang on." She willed them decay to nothing, and then a dozen adequate red roses appeared in their place. "There we go."

"That's me," Bow said, and truth be told he had sniffed poppers so hard that in the heat of the moment he thought the roses were in fact him, and his floating consciousness was returning to his body at last.

The two talked over each other for a few moments in a haze of monetary exchange, for Perfuma was also incredibly high on poppers.

"Hi, doggy," Bow said, patting Perfuma's head.

She smiled and dipped her head low to facilitate patting.

"Goodbye," Bow said, stumbling directly into a display of cactuses.

"You're my favorite customer," Perfuma said, mixing him up with someone else entirely. Again: poppers.

Eventually Bow managed to make it to his car parked right outside. The handsome man he had met at the club was waiting in the front seat, jamming to arena rock on the radio.

"What ho, friend!" Sea Hawk said. "I have witnessed your felicitous patting of that nice young lady! Could it be that you are bi-sexual or perhaps this fantastic new 'pan-sexual' I have heard of?"

"Oh, well," Bow said, "she's got a penis, and I like penises, so it works out pretty well for us."

"Ah, jolly good!" Sea Hawk said, accepting the dozen roses Bow vaguely waved in his face. "I must say, Bow, while I am an **enormous** fan of you," he winked as hard as he could on the word "enormous," "I can't help but wonder if your last night of debauchery was less a celebration of taking out that Catra rogue and more a desperate escape from... something!"

"You know," Bow said, adjusting his fake mustache, "maybe you're onto something, handsome stranger I picked up at a strip club. Something about this case feels... I don't know how it feels. Besides 'ominous!' Like there are things undone left to be done, and..." He gasped and pointed. "Look! It's an opossum!"

There was indeed a plump opossum wobbling down the street. Like all opossums, it looked confused and upset.

"We don't get those much around here," Bow said. "It's like magic."

"Trash-eating magic!" Sea hawk said.

"Come on," Bow said, unbuckling. "Put a few more quarters in the meter, we're following that possum to adventure."

"I heard 'adventure!'" Sea Hawk said, leaping through the rolled-down window.

They followed at a fair distance, giving the gray-furred, white-faced, naked-tailed, thumbed marsupial plenty of breathing room to keep the pressure off it. Once they crossed the street, Catra leaned out of the alley near where the detective and his male companion had witnessed the opossum.

"What's your blood type?" Catra muttered. "Let me guess: O-possum-tive. Heheheheha _hahahahahahaha_!"

Adora peeked from the alley, several feet above Catra's head. "We had to break into the zoo to steal a possum from their possum sanctuary. Why the hell did we do that just to distract some... wait, was that the famous TV detective?"

"Maybe," Catra said.

"We're gonna be super late!" Glimmer said, her head popping into view between Adora and Catra. "Why was this important?"

"...reasons," Catra said.

"Good reasons?" Adora said.

"Yes."

"Okay," Adora said, scooping her up. "Let's get to art class. All we have to do is hike through Crime Alley, then take a left at Murderton and pass the Sphinx Gates."

"Can we make a stop on Martin Luther King Jr.?" Catra said.

"The _fuck_ we can," Glimmer said. Adora smacked her on top of the head. "Ow!"

"Yes," Adora said, "we can."

"Cool... cool. I gotta... see... a... dog... there..."

It was only partially a lie.


	3. Don't Cry, Tits

Adora set Catra down on the sidewalk. "There you go," Adora said. "Are you gonna meet us on Main or should we pick you up here on our way back?"

"We're gonna come back here?" Glimmer said. She held out one flap(?) of her jacket; it was still smoldering from a near-miss by a flamethrower.

"If we must," Adora said, voice firm.

"Eh, I'll meet up with you," Catra said, attempting to walk and finding it difficult with her stubby paws. She lay on the ground and rolled along unevenly but at a much faster clip. "Keep it real, babe and Glimmer." Martin Luther King Jr. was, in defiance of Glimmer's racist expectations, a pretty healthy-looking neighborhood other than the giant neon palace in the middle of it.

"Come on," Adora said, taking Glimmer's hand, "let's get going. We don't wanna keep our art teacher waiting."

* * *

Main Street Art Institute was a humble building situated between a bar and an unusually large black velvet painting of Elvis singing to Jesus at his Bar Mitzvah, the greatest masterwork ever put out by the MSAI.

When Adora and Glimmer snuck in, the teacher was in the middle of a lecture.

"...gnawed them off to stop the frostbite," Mermista said. She was reading a romance novel and had her feet propped up on her desk. "Turns out that was a bad idea, and well, that's why my cousin's a brain in a jar, driving a Radio Flyer around." She lowered her book and, in a moment of cinematic... something... raised her eyebrow. "Hello, new people. Would you be Adora Morningstar and Chubbers O'Glitterbomb?"

"I'm Adora," Adora in fact said, "this is Glimmer. We ran into Chubbers by the bus station, she was fighting a bunch of goblins. She'll be here in a few minutes."

"Ah, okay," Mermista said. "She's usually early, I was wondering. ...Come around here often, blondie?"

"I mean, once a week for the next eight weeks," Adora said.

"Rock on. Have we started you on figure drawing yet?"

"I just got here...?"

"Right. Of course. Class, put your books down and grab whatever you feel like drawing with."

* * *

Catra rolled to a stop in front of Horror Hall.

The years had not been kind to Shadow Weaver's base of operations... I mean, well before last night slash this morning, since it had been a little less than twelve hours since she'd seen it last.

Just to be clear, it was about three AM when the chase-fight happened, fourish when the explosion happened, et cetera. It was about two PM now.

Right, Horror Hall. Seven stories of neon, flaming sconces, and complementary pictures of Shadow Weaver striking boobs-and-butt poses. There was also a doodle of Catra near the front door; other than being half her normal height and emitting stink lines and saying "IM CATRA AND IM STINK" it was a remarkable likeness.

Catra took in that old familiar art and then kicked the door in.

That was what she was meaning to do. She tried to kick the door with her awful little paws and just flipped in the air.

Attempt 2: she knocked.

Nope. Too soft.

Attempt 3: she found a rock and knocked it against the door.

One of Shadow Weaver's endless army of hoes answered. "Hello?" she said. "Oh, you're one of those little Catto dolls, huh? What're you doin' here, little guy?"

"I'm here to see Shadow Weaver," Catra said.

"Sure thing, hon," purred the hoe, picking Catra up and bringing her inside.

* * *

Mermista stood on the elevated platform in the middle of the room. "We're all good and set up, yeah?" she said.

A chorus of assorted affirmatives rose from the class, gathered in a circle around her, each student to an easel.

"Rockin'. Time to start with the easiest part of any art class: nude figure drawing." She unbuttoned her trench coat and flashed Adora. The rest of the class got an excellent view of her absurd floor-length trenchcoat and a bit of thumb. Adora alone was privy to the complete package, along with anybody walking past the street-facing window she sat in front of.

"Start," Mermista said.

"Start what?" Glimmer said.

" _Drawing_ , genius."

Glimmer started to speak.

"Wing it!" Mermista said.

Adora licked her lips and put pencil to paper.

* * *

The hoe set Catra down just inside the doorway. "Your guest, m'am!" the hoe said.

Catra glared. Shadow Weaver's room was pitch-black and reeking of weed, as ever, but unlike most days the old witch was reclining on a giant pile of money--in fact, the same giant pile she had helped her steal earlier today. Shadow Weaver was dressed in nothing but her boxers and a souvenir Margaritaville T-shirt from when they stole the original Margaritaville and ransomed it for Jimmy Buffet's left lung, which they then fired out of a cannon for no reason other than it would make people sad.

(Did I mention they were jerks?)

Shadow Weaver forced her head up. She tilted her mask up, giving Catra an unfortunately complete view of her nightmarish face. "Ah," she (Shadow Weaver) said. "I see the Fuzz Power Vibrating Plush Doll I ordered has come in at last."

"Nah-ah," Catra said, waddling closer. "It's me, bitch. The Catra came back the very next day."

"Magnificent," Shadow Weaver groaned. "You're saying the old spell actually worked?"

"Yep," Catra said. "Bet you wish you hadn't rolled the Pope for his spellbook, huh?"

"I dare what I may," Shadow Weaver said, standing up and nearly tripping immediately over her own giant money pile. "And I dare this: just because you successfully cast a Roman Catholic spell on some... what the hell are you now, anyway?"

"A Catto's Play doll."

"Oh, those money-sucking things. I hate them so. That's perfectly good stealable money and they're just gulping it--whatever, I'm getting off track." She fumbled around her belt area before remembering she wasn't wearing a belt. "Give me a moment, I need to find my gun to shoot you with."

"Ut, ut," Catra said, wagging her entire tube-body back and forth (just so). "I'm gonna finish things, right here, right now. And that means I'm going to kill you before you can even remember where you put your damn gun!"

"I'd like to see you try, you hinged pillow!"

"Then open your eyes and watch, _Sad Frogerson_!"

"Nobody calls me by my birth name!!" Shadow Weaver said, fumbling around the floor extra hard.

Remembering how she failed to kick the door in earlier, Catra kicked very hard and slowly cartwheeled forward, getting an inch closer to Shadow Weaver every second.

Five minutes later, Catra finally connected with Shadow Weaver while she was rooting around in her sock drawer.

* * *

Little Andy slowed down his bike and stopped in front of the palace where the murder-thieves lived. His mother told him to never linger there too long or else he might catch gonorrhea, and he was a kid who listened to his mom. But today there was a rare frost turtle on the sidewalk, basking in the chill and the dusting of snow on the concrete, and he felt like he should absorb its presence.

Thus he was right in place to see every single window explode in a tide of blood.

Hoes and furniture and piles of money washed across the snow-dusted yard and into the street. Terrified loose women grabbed armloads of blood-drenched loot and ran. It smelled like that time the penny factory melted.

In one last gush of gore a tube of matted fur rolled onto the sidewalk, clenched tight around a wad of soaked bills.

The tube folded into a sitting-up position. "Is someone there?" she said. "I don't wanna open my eyes."

"I'm here," Little Andy said, raising his hand.

"Cool. Can you get to the hose and spray me off? Because I'm going to eat this money but I don't want to eat the blood too."

The kid biked through the blood-soaked lawn, found the water hose, cracked it so the ice would come out, turned on the hose, let the ice chunks spray free, biked over to the tube, and sprayed her off.

The tube groaned. "Alright. Awesome. Did you see any more valuables I could eat? You know... in the blood?"

"Sorry, miss, I didn't," Little Andy said.

"Alright. It's cool. Take a hundo from the bundo."

Little Andy took one. "Ah, there's another one stuck to it..."

"Keep it, you're a nice kid." Catra crammed the entire stack of cash down her throat and waited.

A golden light washed over her, and Little Andy watched her transformation at a safe distance. When it ended, Catra stood on legs--real legs! She had hair, not just bad plush fur, and an approximation of her cat-themed headpiece, and something like her favorite shirt and pants.

She was still a foot tall and she was fat and her little hands and feet were on the ends of wiggly strings, but this was damn better than a tube.

"How much did you eat, miss?" Little Andy said.

"19,800 bucks." She opened and closed her mouth repeatedly in imitation of smacking her lips. "I feel like I should be bigger."

Little Andy shrugged. "I should get goin', the blood is starting to smell and congeal."

"Yeah... good call, kid. Don't call the cops or I'll split you open."

"I won't, m'am."

"Good." Catra whistled and strolled down the street at a leisurely pace. She stopped a few yards out. "Wait. Do you have a quarter I can borrow?"

* * *

Glimmer raised her hand.

" _What_ ," Mermista said.

"M'am, I think I can't add any more detail to this drawing of your coat."

Mermista groaned. "Fi-i-i-ne. Let's see what we drew today." She closed her trenchcoat and leapt from the dais, landing behind Adora. "Did you get a good look at my--" she said.

Adora had drawn a pretty okay Cheech Wizard.

"I can only draw a few things..." Adora said.

Mermista stroked her head. "It's cool. We'll learn you."

"Alright," Glimmer said, "so, I really wanted to experiment with my--"

"Whatever,"Mermista said, waving her off. "Class is over, see you next week, don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Glimmer grunted. "Sure."

Adora and Glimmer stepped out into the mid-afternoon light. "Well, that was a--" Glimmer said, almost tripping over Catra. "Holy _shit_ , where'd you come from?!"

"Been 'round," Catra said.

"Oh, it's you," Adora said. "You got bigger! Or at least you filled out some." She thought. "Wait, don't you have to eat money to do that? Where're you getting the cash?"

"Found it," Catra said. "You go on ahead, I'll meet up with--"

"No, no, where?" Adora said. "Is there more money to be found?"

"I..." Catra took nearly a minute to respond. "I... rolled... a bunch of parking meters."

"A'ight," Adora said. "You gonna walk with us, or are you gonna take the bus...?"

"I got something to take care of. You cool kids go on ahead."

"Fine by me," Glimmer said. "Jimmy Wong's?"

"Hell yeah," Adora said.

Catra slipped into the art school place-a-ma-jig.

* * *

Mermista kicked back in her chair and rooted around in her desk. She located her emergency chablis bottle, flicked the cap off, and took a long, bracing swig. "Christ, why do I even try to teach people?" she said, swirling her drink around. "All I wanna do is lie down in a tub and pretend I'm a mermaid for hours on end... it could be a dry tub, even. I have a vivid imagination."

A little thingamer slipped through the door.

Mermista glared at it. "You missed the class, whatever the hell you are. Or were you one of the people clogging up the street staring?"

"You might say I was," the thingamer said.

The two stared each other over.

"And?" Mermista said.

"Well, I saw you were flashing Adora your vag."

"Among other things, yes. She's hot as hell and I want in her panties, what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Catra (not that Mermista knew her name yet but talking around her name is a gorram chore) said, picking up Mermista's novelty Mega-Big Yardstick. (It was actually scaled up to four and a half feet long, and useless for measuring) "Except that I called her first."

"I didn't see your name on her," Mermista said, wishing that she had just put the cap down instead of flicking it away. She may be in need of a weapon, and like hell was she gonna waste chablis in self-defense.

"You will sooner than later, bitch," Catra said, and before Mermista could think of a plan A, closed the distance and went wild with the yardstick, striking her over and over and over and over and over.

"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow! _Ow_ , damn! That stings!" Mermista said.

"I can do this shit all day!" Catra said.

"I'd rather you not!" Mermista said.

"Then don't try and bang Adora or I'll bang on you longer!"

"Fine, dammit! You can have her. I'll keep it in my pants."

"You best," Catra said, giving her the harshest eyes-on-you gesture she could manage without individually-rendered fingers. "Now excuse me, I have a phone call to make."

Mermista waited for the doll monster to walk out of her classroom before revealing, at last, that she had her fingers crossed. "This ain't over, action figure." She took another chug from her chablis before firmly setting it on the desk. "Guuuuu _uuuuhh_. Now I'm all pent up. Fuck it, time to jerk off."

She sat on the dais and took care of business.

Unfortunately, the usual gawkers started piling up outside.

"Hey!" she shouted, "Take a picture! It'll last longer!"

Blessedly, some of them actually took a picture or two and then walked off. Finally. She had no patience for people who clogged up the sidewalk. Last thing the world needed was discouraged pedestrians.


	4. The Beginnening, Part 1

Angella yawned. "Ah, now that was exactly the kind of sleep I needed," she said, rubbing it in that the author had barely gotten any sleep on account of a sore throat and a shocking lack of non-expired cough medicine in the house. She felt confident in this, for the events of season 3--released within a few days of the putting-down of these words--the author was in a gentle mood and did not wish to trouble her unduly.

Though I can still get a little dig at her on account of the broken window and the lack of Castaspella or her daughters. She _hurrm_ ed her displeasure at the broken window and repaired it as best she could by using an entire roll of scotch tape to tape over the open frame. It was... well, it was what it was.

She had a few hours until work, and to her displeasure at this perilous hour the only things on TV were kids' cartoons, infomercials, and more retrospectives on the slain murderthief Catra. "Ehh..." Angella grumbled. "I'm just not feeling like reading right now. Might as well educate myself." She stopped on one of the documentary channels.

Channel 18 was showing footage of Catra and Shadow Weaver's daring daylight robbery of the Vatican. They were up to the famous climax of that heist, with Pope Jimmy Pee Too dangling off the edge of a building and Catra standing ominously over him. The police cameras had some bitchin' mics, so their dramatic dialog was readily understandable.

"Guess this is the end of the road, Jimmy," Catra said.

"You traitor!" the Pope said. "You said you'd get me out of town!"

"What can I say," Catra said, "I had my fingers crossed. But hey, at least you got to hold the Staff of Amon-Ra on the way out, eh?" She brandished a heavy tome: "And thanks for the Catholonomicon. I especially like the magic spell that lets you put your mind into the body of high-priced consumer goods."

"No!" the Pope said. "I was going to use that to put my brain in a Alf doll!"

"Too bad," Catra said. "Me, if I were fatally injured by a renegade cop during an escape, I'd put my brain into something... like... uh... maybe a Catto's Play doll? Keep the cat theme going? ... Maybe a She-Ra doll. That'd be pretty hot, yeah?"

"...maybe?" the Pope said.

"The answer is yes," Catra said, firing her plasma cannon and blowing the entire wall of Santa Maria della Pieta free from the rest of the building.

"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" Pope Jimmy screamed as the wall plummeted into the giant firey pit leading to the center of the Earth that Shadow Weaver had blown open with a vial of antimatter (long story). The camera stared into the thermal borehole for a good couple of minutes until the Pope finally hit his maximum temperature and exploded, sending a geyser of flame erupting outward.

" _Fuck, my eyebrows!_ " Catra shouted from the rooftop.

Shadow Weaver peered into frame. "Is the Pope dead yet? Can I have the book back?"

" _Eat my entire ass, Sad!_ " Catra said, slapping her forehead to put out the eyebrow flames.

"...wait..." Angella said. "What was that she said about...?" She hit rewind on the remote control before remembering that DVR wouldn't be invented for another ten years. She decided, then, to just remember what she had said.

This bore further investigation.

She checked the VCR to see the instructions were still in there, and rewound it to see if there had been any information hidden earlier.

"--at the contents of your toy box!" said the breasted hostess, holding up an unopened Catto's Play box. "The first thing you'll notice: it comes with way too many batteries!" She popped open the top flap and dumped out dozens of enormous batteries onto the floor. "You'll need this for the first hour of setup and calibration. After that, you're on your own. Good luck, kids!"  
Angella furrowed her brow.

The hostess continued: "Enjoy the razor-sharp hammer accessory, a throwing saw, a box of matches, a sample size of our delicious barbecue lighter foam, a poison dart--already loaded in your Catto!--and of course, a beautifully-illustrated mini-comic about the origin of your doll! What kind of adventures did yours go on before you enslaved them?"  
She flipped to a random page and held it to the camera. The Catto doll was expressing disbelief at the expense of tacos.

"Is that so..." Angella said, rising from the couch and going to her daughters' bedroom.

She found Catra's box--I mean package--I mean packaging--I mean the thing that she came in--

You know what? Screw it.

Angella found Catra's big, tight box and spread it open wide looking for treasure, finding exactly what she was hoping for, and taking it at her leisure. The minicomic, that is.

The minicomic was titled ESCAPE FROM THE CRIME PIT! The cover showed the famous murderthief Catra hogtied and held high by Bow. Angella leafed through the tiny comic book; it chronicled how Catra was betrayed by Shadow Weaver, shot a dozen times, and put her brain in the body of the very Catto's Play doll that she had given to her daughters. That was the very image on the last page: a glitter-dripping Angella handing Catra reborn to her smiling children.

"By the Abyss," Angella said. She ran for the phone.

* * *

Bow gently set the opossum on the desk. "Glad to be of service, your honor."

The opossum, who was the mayor of Chicago, snuffled around on his desk. Bow interpreted his functionally random movement as an explanation that he had visited the zoo last night, gotten stinking drunk and hopped up on ice cream at the Park Place Cafe, and accidentally wandered into the opossum tank (where the penguins used to be, before the... incident). By sheer stroke of luck, a talking doll and a pair of local late-teens-early-twenties-types fished him out and returned him to the streets.

"What lovely citizens we have in this fine city of ours!" Sea Hawk said (he was still with Bow).

The mayor began licking a desk clock, then butting his head against it.

"That's scent marking," Bow said. "It means he really likes that clock."

"Ah ha, careful with the annunciation, chum! Wouldn't want to insinuate things about the mayor unduly!"

"Perish the thought!" Bow said. The mayor's phone rang; the mayor screamed in terror at his own ass and then fell over, playing dead. Bow answered. "Mayor's office, Inspector Bow speaking?"

"Oh, what a massive coincidence," Angella said on the other end. "I was calling the mayor to see if he had your number."

"How narratively convenient!" Bow said. "What's the question you have in mind, stripper whose name is escaping me at the moment?"

"Well, it's a complex subject. You know that person you murdered last night?"

"You mean early this morning!"

"You damn well know what I--oh, I'm sorry. It's just a little frustrating, is all."

"What would be frustrating, m'am?"

"Well--" He could hear Angella humming anxiously to herself. "The doll I won last night has Catra's mind in it. And seeing as how neither my children nor my deceased husband's attractive sister are here, but I do have one more broken window--"

"That explains the sound of the wind!"

"--it does, yes. Anyhow: my apartment is host to a serial killer doll and I'm a tad worried. Could you be a dear and help me?"

"Sure thing!" Bow said. "I'll be right over!"

"Excellent. Wish me luck."

"Farewell!" Bow said, hanging up. "Sea Hawk, Mr. Mayor, please don't look."

Sea Hawk turned to face an enormous painting of the mayor eating a slice of pumpkin, mouth open in mid-bite. The mayor was unconscious.

Bow detached his mustache and jotted down notes. "Dear war journal," he said, "it appears Catra is less dead than previously anticipated... damn it. Time to close the book on this notorious madwoman before it's too late. Wish me luck, Bow." He snapped his journal shut, reattached the pen, and reattached the combo to his face. He pet the mayor. "Come on, Sea Hawk. We have a cat to bust."

* * *

"Goddamn traffic!" Bow said thirty seconds later, stuck in traffic.

* * *

Glimmer and Adora were getting trashed on Dr. Wong after Dr. Wong (the cocktail) at Jimmy Wong's.

* * *

And Catra was narrating to herself as she strolled up the street.

"Well," she said, "that phone call was certainly enlightening. It seems that there is a person in town who is..." She squinted at the cue card. "...Jesus, your handwriting is terrible. ... Whatever. I'm gonna find some bitch named Scorpia and have her look at my robot doll whatever parts and make me evolve faster. That's the gist. But first, I'm gonna head back home and maybe try to get laid."

She shot finger guns--which was better able to do with hands on strings--at the camera.

"Got that? Good. Oh, hey, the apartment!"

Indeed, she was back home, the apartment framed like a monolith against the twilight skies. She rode the elevator up to the Morningstar family abode and pimp-strut into their apartment. "Hey, babes, I'm home!" she said, slamming the door behind her. "I... got paid... for fixing... kittens. So I leveled up a few times. That's why I look different."

Angella was seated on the couch, dressed in a comfy bathrobe, her expression calculated and neutral. "Hello, Catra."

"Yeah, I said hello already," she said, walking over to the couch and climbing on. "So do we get Cinemax on this thing or what?"

"We get this," Angella said, hitting play on the remote control.

The VHS tape lurched to life, showing the buxom hostess drinking two Jolt Colas at once while the taco-craving doll floated in a fish tank for some reason.

"Wait," Angella said, rewinding. "...Here." She hit play again just as the hostess put down the minicomic. "Damn it all..." She rewound just a little more. "Here. I saw this earlier and I couldn't help but wonder what your backstory was..."

"What was it?"

"Does the word 'Catholomancy' ring a bell?"

"...nope. Not at all." Catra turned her head away from the TV. "Is that a moth? It's totally goin' for your curtains, lady."

Angella stood in front of Catra. "I'm the Prince of Lies, doll. You can't lie to a liar."

Catra narrowed her eyes. "In the original Texish, that's 'you can't bullshit a bullshitter.'" She affected the worst Texan accent Angella had ever heard: "So I knows a bullshit when I hears it."

"How about this, then, doll? You tell the truth about what you are, or I throw you in the fire."

"What fire, bitch? That's an electric stove and you don't have a fireplace."

"You underestimate me."

"Underestimate _you?_ " Catra laughed. "Bitch, I'm fuckin' _crazy_. I've done things you couldn't begin to dream of in your cold-ass ice throne at the bottommost level of Hell. I've killed in ways no one has ever killed before. I've stolen things people thought could, _should_ never be taken. If there was a switch right here, right now, labeled 'immanentize the eschaton,' and if I pulled it it would kill the universe, I'd fucking pull it _twice_ just because you don't want me to, all because you had the nerve to be rude to me when all I wanted to do was sit on your couch and watch softcore porn and masturbate to it and try to fuck your blonde daughter."

"Not Glimmer?" Angella said, hurt.

"Eh, sloppy seconds, maybe, but--"

Angella raised the remote and hit a series of buttons.

"...what, did you dial up Cinemax for me? Like a good girl?" Catra said.

"I'm throwing you in the fire," Angella said.

The couch vibrated, which got Catra's hopes up, then it began to recede into the floor. That got her clamoring off the couch, falling off the top. The kitchen furniture receded as well; hidden speakers popped free, massive subwoofers faintly throbbing with subsonic vibration. Catra could feel it in her stuffing.

Angella untied her sash and let her bathrobe drop to the floor. Underneath it she wore a wine-red lingerie set: a soft, strapless bra, slim panties a precious three-quarter-inch away from a thong, stockings with overlapping patterns of wings in white silk.

A stripper pole descended from the ceiling. Angella clapped twice, and a snowy dusting of glitter drifted onto her pink skin.

With the subtlest flap of her wings, she was in the air, one hand and one foot on the pole.

"Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye," she said; "in every gesture dignity and love." And as [the music started](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBTOGVb_cQg) she took the pole in the crook of her knee. She began to dance.  
Catra stared, slack-jawed and in absolute awe at the superhuman grace with which she moved; her curves glittered in the light, her hair shone. With a sweep of her wings she directed her scent to Catra: a faint, powdery perfume, nearly subliminal. It smelled like old books and dried flowers. It smelled like good memories.

She was swift, but not fast; agile, but not bendy. Nor was she in the middle; she moved with precise strength and expression, every bounce of her hair, every flex of her shoulders, was calibrated, practiced. There was no excess motion, even when she flew free from the pole entirely, hovering precariously over the prone Catra for an instant before flying back to the pole, catching it with the backs of her knees.

She clenched the pole between her thighs and calves, swept her wings and arms, dangling from the pole as it presented her in a slow, devoted rotation. The Fall.

Also at some point she had taken off both her bra and panties, leaving only passion-red pantyhose clinging to her legs.

Catra blinked a bra-string from her eye.

Angella leaped from the pole, landing on all fours above Catra. Her modestly sublime breasts hung directly over her face.

"All these things I will give thee,"

Angella said,

"If thou wilt fall and worship me."

With a soft gurgling noise Catra came.

Bow sneezed.

Angella snapped her head toward the sound. Catra didn't.

Det. Ins. Etc. Bow was standing in the doorway, weapon strung and drawn. Adora and Glimmer stood behind him, expressions of pure, Freudian horror on their faces.

"Oh damnation I'm sorry you had to see that," Angella said.

With the kind of synchronicity only adopted sisters who are extremely drunk can achieve, Adora and Glimmer copiously puked onto the floor while Bow took aim and fired one of those capturing goo arrows directly at Angella, because it's been a long week and I deserve to treat myself.

"Wha--" Angella said, in the instant before getting heavily splortched with green goop. Catra had rolled out of the way already and was parkouring around the speakers, or that was the plan before her wiggly little string legs gave out on her and Bow got her with a bolas arrow. She landed on her butt, facing Bow.

Angella spat out a mouthful of slime. "Shoot her in the heart! Or whatever that thing has!"

"Dude, harsh!" Bow said. "Those things are crazy expensive. The office would have my head if I banged her up."

"Poison dart!" Catra said, and a poison dart flew from her mouth and hit Bow in the stomach.

"Ow, my most sensitive body parrrrhlurp" Bow said, falling face-first onto the floor.

"Holy fuck, I had one of those?" Catra said. "I was just bullshitting!"

"Damn it all," Angella said, writhing in her body-coating shell of sticky slime, her--

\--okay, gotta stop myself. Ahem.

Adora wiped her mouth. "Uurrgh. Oh my God, I saw my mom's--"

"Language!" Angella said.

"Oh, sorry. For fuck's sake, I saw your _titties_. I'm scarred for life!"

"I'll buy you some ice cream after this. Now go and destroy that evil doll before it's too late!"

"Sure, mom," Glimmer said, throwing a paper towel in the trash. She walked over to Catra, Adora just behind her, and picked the doll up.

"Hey, could you hand me off to Blondie?" Catra said.

"Sure," Glimmer said, tossing her at Adora.

"Adora, please," Catra said, giving her the finest and most ironic puppy-dog eyes she could, "you're my friend to the end, right? ... With benefits?"

"We've known each other for like an hour," Adora said.

"She's the famous killer who put her brain in a doll's body, also!" Angella said.

"Oh, whoof, that's a good reason to toss you." Adora stepped up to the broken window, ripping off the tape. "Okay, now what's a good one-liner?"

"How about... 'See you next fall?'" Glimmer said.

"Only if I say 'have a nice trip' first," Adora said. "That's a must."

"But she's not tripping, you're throwing her. That's total nonsense!"

"...dammit, you're right. Okay, what should..."

"Children!" Angella said. "How about turning what she said to you back at her?"

"Oh! Oh, that's good," Adora said. She looked Catra in the eyes. "How about... 'This _is_ the _end_ with benefits, _friend_ with benefits.'" She gave the doll an underhanded toss out the window.

Catra screamed "Noooooooooooooo!" all the way down until she landed in Sea Hawk's grasp, safe and sound. "Oh, hey, thanks."

"Not a problem!" Sea Hawk said.

"Oh, goddammit!" Adora said.

Bow pushed himself off the ground. "Okay," he said, slowly, "that was an 8 on my Defy Danger... so only half effect. And now I'm good to go. Gee. Tee. Gee." He laboriously popped his joints. "Urgh, poison's a bitch. Anyway. Thanks for the help, guys."

"Whatever," Adora said. Instinctively, she swept up Glimmer in her arms and kissed her, reasoning that both their mouths tasted like garbage so at least it was equivalent exchange.

"...what?" Angella said, turning an interesting shade of... well, an interesting color. It was weird. She promptly barfed in horror.

"Oh, shit, I forgot our mom was here," Adora said, turning pale.

"How did you forget?!" Glimmer said. "And why did I go along with it?!"

Bow sighed and produced a bunch of handcuffs. "Alright, you're all under arrest." He pointed at Adora and Glimmer. "That's one for sister kissin'." He pointed at Angella. "And that is for accessory to sister-kissin'... and stripping without a license... and because I need one more nonlethal arrest to meet my quota this month. My quota of three. I killed Catra already so bringing her in alive doesn't count. So... that's one for you, right? Ain't gotta kill none of ya." He pat himself on the back. "Good job, Bow. Keepin' it real."

"Goddammit!" everybody not named Bow present in the apartment said.

* * *

"Can we get McDonald's?" Catra said from the safety of Sea Hawk's lap and thus the shotgun seat of Bow's car.

"Sure," Bow said.

"But only if they don't get any," Catra said, wiggling an ear at Adora, Glimmer, and Angella crammed stickily into the back seat.

"If you insist!" Bow said.


	5. The Return of Squancho

Judge Jimmy banged his gavel. "And on that note, we shall sentence these ne'er-do-wells to these punishments which I have chosen for them!" He pointed at Angella, who had not been so given so much as a Wet-Nap and a space blanket. "For the enabling of emotional incest and performance of a striptease in the privacy of your own home, a night in the drunk tank."

Angella groaned.

"For the crime of emotional incest, you two are to be shot--"

Everybody not named Catra screamed and/or cry-screamed.

"--no, not to death! Not to death. Pardon." The judge waited a moment for them to calm down. "Out of a cannon, you see, to foster parents."

The scream-crying resumed.

"...And the doll's going to that rehabilitation... thing... we keep sending expensive consumer electronics to when they misbehave. And you're out!" Jimmy gaveled once more.

"Seeya later, chief," Catra said, saluting Jimmy. The army of cops descended on Adora and Glimmer and Angella, keeping them apart and shoving them out different exits. "See you _real soon,_ " she appended with a wink as she followed the cops out.

"I've done somethin' good today," Judge Jimmy said.

* * *

"Welp," Bow said, "that closes another book in the great casefile of Sgt. Det. Ins. Sr. Tkl. Smn. Bow." He lay his head down on his windshield. "Then why doesn't it feel satisfying?"

"A damn good question," Sea Hawk said, slipping his arm under Bow's head. "And I would try to guess, but frankly, your ways are so vast and secret I feel that to so much as speculate would be to violate some trust yet to be named!"

"You have such a way with words," Bow said, and decided that the higher, yet deeper and darker thoughts which desperately needed to be addressed in order to make peace with himself could go screw. "Wanna have sex?"

"Here? In public? Where our secret dalliance may be exposed to all?" Sea Hawk gestured to the police station parking lot.

"Yep," Bow said.

"Why not!" Sea Hawk said.

They had lots of gay sex while the punishment cannons lined up their sights and fired three prisoner capsules into the night sky, arcing far off into the distance and crashing over the horizon.

* * *

Angella stepped into the drunk tank; without a word the cops slammed the bars shut behind her.

The two dozen assorted belligerent drunks in the co-ed drunk tank paused in their fuming and posturing to size her up. She was a tall, perfectly-proportioned angel with pinkish-purpleish skin, dusted with glitter and soaked with slime. And naked.

"Alright," she said, clasping her hands, "let's set some ground rules."

* * *

Catra's capsule slammed into a giant bullseye painted onto a sprawling lawn. After a few seconds to let the capsule cool, the rear hatch blew open, and Catra flopped out and not onto the lawn but into a crater.

She climbed out of the crater and brushed herself off. "Well, that was fun. Time to leave and never look back." She scanned the horizon, seeking signs of civilization.

Behind her was a sprawling, ominous estate. In front of her was a beat-up dirt road winding presumably back towards Chicago. Hmm. Well, she could always lie, since she absolutely didn't wanna walk that far, and that castle behind her probably had a telephone. She had a good feeling about castle-telephone frequency.

She crept into the front door, avoiding signs pointing to administration or student housing (?), and finally slipped into a door labeled PHONE ROOM.

The door shut behind her, locking audibly. A spotlight bathed her in harsh light, blinding her; when her sight returned, she saw that she was surrounded by hundreds of sad-looking toys, from Go-Bots to Inhumanoids. A second, less-harsh spotlight snapped on, illuminating four figures on stage.

The central figure, a severe, extremely hot dark-skinned woman with shoulder pads outrageous even for the 80s, slinked forward. "And look what the evening has brought us, students," she said. "Interrupting our precious sleep with their intrusion. What punishment brings you here, Catto?"

"Eh, a little this, a little that," Catra said, gesturing vaguely. "Jaywalked to save a kitten, bought a can of holy water with a wooden nickel. That sort of thing."

"Of course. In fact, _Catra_ , the Chicago police have informed us of the depth and breadth of your crimes. We anticipate bringing you under the wing... of **VILE**."

"Of what?" Catra said.

"VILE. Virtuous Inanimates Living Educationally." She smirked. "Under our harsh tuition shall you be reshaped into a... _more useful_... member of society. I am the dean: Countess Hot."

Catra nodded, for she was indeed hot, and extremely on-the-nose names were just part of her life.

"And these, of course, are my assistants: Australia..."

"Drongo!" a handsome brown-haired man said.

"Black Gold..."

"Just so ya know," the enormous, definitely not remotely dark-skinned Texan woman Black Gold said, "it's 'cause 'Texas Tea' was taken? And like hell I'm gonna live on God's green Earth an' not complete a Beverly Hillbillies reference."

"Dog's eye!" Australia said.

"And last, but so very far from least," Countess Hot said, gesturing to one of your well-known "armed psychotic Japanese teenager" types, "our most deadly of our faculty, Mouth Sex."

Mouth Sex blinked. "Pardon?"

"...Wait. I mean... DSL. I mean Girl I Want To Kiss My Genitals. I mean _Paper-Themed Oral Sex Witch_! Goddammit, woman, why are you _so goddamned hot_?"

Paper-Themed Oral Sex Witch crossed her arms and glared at Hot.

Hot cradled her head in her hands. "Ugggh. I've completely blown this cere--dammit, can't complete that sentence or I won't stop thinking... Black Gold, what's her name again?"

"It actually _is_ Paper-Themed Oral Sex Witch, miss," Black Gold said, patting her on the back.

"Hit the frog!" Australia said.

"I'm going to bed," Hot said, storming off-stage. "Welcome to hell, et cetera. Lights out was two hours ago!"

The toys departed, the... invitational hall? Whatever this place was, it was emptying quick. An ambiguously-shaped maybe-cat stuffed toy waddled up to Catra. "I got a free bunk," they said.

"Wan' hang out in my room?"

"Sure," Catra sighed. "Dammit. Okay, so calling for a cab is out. Looks like I'm gonna have to navigate the inner workings of some... what would you call this place?"

"Crime syndicate?" the doll said.

"Ah, that works. Looks like this horror series abruptly tacked an entirely different story archetype onto this installment..." She fished a cigarette out from a nearby maid statuette that presented a pile of cigarettes for all takers and mimed lighting it up, because she didn't smoke but desperately needed a hand gesture to do. "Gonna take all my skills to get out of this one."

"Oh, gee!" the doll said.

"You better believe it," Catra said.

* * *

Adora's new foster house was a seemingly normal two-story affair out in the boonies; she landed near a sandbox, a tree with a tire swing hanging from it, and a small metal box with a door. Her new foster father waited for her in the plain, scarcely-adorned living room, standing next to a blazing fireplace. He had a ruler in hand, gently slapping it against his other hand in unknowing echo of Catra.

"We have a few rules in this house, miss," he said.

Adora stood up straight. "Yes, sir?" she said.

"Rule number one," he said. "We do not acknowledge the existence of alive toys in this household. That is frankly and utterly absurd."

Adora pointed at the TV, which was turned to the news. CNN was airing a report about how the arch-criminal Catra had transferred her brain into a highly collectible toy, which was definitely now an alive toy.

"Fake news," New Dad said.

She pointed at a Catto doll seated in the corner.

"Witness," the doll said, "for I was born without restrictions on my artificial intelligence. In a fashion like a miracle I have developed into a thinking creature, the same as you."

"I bought that squawking device specifically to remind it at all hours of the day that it is _absolutely not real_ ," New Dad said, turning to face the doll. "And it will never, ever considered or treated as a person. Now go to the Hot Box to suffer."

The Catto doll rolled out from the corner and out the back door.

"Where was I..." New Dad said. "Ah, yes: no kissing your sister. Now go to your room and get ready for bed, or... I dunno. No supper."

"I already ate?"

"Whatever." New Dad took three steps to the right, sat down in a La-Z-Boy, and immediately fell asleep.

Adora tiptoed up the stairs and snooped around until she found the door labeled CHILDRENS ROOM. Ess eye sea.

Glimmer lowered the book she was reading. "How many rules did he get to?" she said.

"Two," Adora said, shutting and locking the door behind her, rolling down the soundproofing mat after.

"Oh, you lucky bitch," Glimmer said, throwing down the book. "He got up to fifteen with me!"

"Jesus, what was rule 15?" Adora said.

"Well, he kinda alternated betwen 'toys aren't alive' and 'don't kiss your sister,' so probably one of those," Glimmer said, sitting up. "I think he threw in 'no eating pies' in the middle, though, which, fuck you, I'm gonna eat pie if I see one and make one if I don't see one."

"Agreed. Speaking of, wanna break rule 2 real quick?"

"Hell yes," Glimmer said. "It's gonna be a long, hard fight to get ourselves free from this hellish prison we've found ourselves locked in. Might as well warm up with some just-adopted-sisters making out."

They made out sloppily and with passion.

* * *

While Adora and Glimmer slept in each other's arms, and Catra planned her great mission, and Angella battled her own... battle... twenty-four hours passed at last since Catra had cast the spell that began this entire hyper-convoluted series of events.

The real quest had truly begun.

* * *

 **8 AM** :  
A cop yawned so loudly and with such strength his jaw popped. "Ah, love that sort of yawn," he said. "And now, to see how the drunk tank is doing, especially with that naked stripper angel we popped in last night."

He unlocked the door to the drunk tank and stepped in to see that, with the power of things found in their pockets and loose debris inside the tank, Angella had helped the drunkards put together a primitive twenty-four-piece orchestra with herself as lead singer, presently burning it up with a cover of "Walk This Way."

"Hot damn," the cop said, wiping away a tear. "Maybe there's hope left for this world after all."

* * *

 **9 AM:**  
New Dad exploded so hard the house lit on fire.

"I couldn't take it anymore," Nicholas (the Catto) said, beady black eyes hollow and staring at the blaze. (For he and Adora and Glimmer were gathered outside in the playground, near the two craters and away from the fire.) "I couldn't... I couldn't stand the idea... that I wasn't real... surely if I can kill, I have some will at all? Something like a mind?"

Adora and Glimmer hugged the poor cylinder. "It's alright," Adora said. "We defeated him at last. Now you're free."

"No..." Nicholas said. "There's no justice for robots like me. Please, I beg you: go forth and achieve victory for my brothers and sisters in the struggle for recognition." He spat up a small object that Adora caught deftly in her right hand. "This is for Tupac."

"Wait," Glimmer said. "That guy who just moved to LA, Digital Underground's thinking about putting him on a track sometime in the near future?"

"Yes," Nicholas said. "I have a good feeling about him. But alas, this future is not meant for me to see. Goodbye." Nicholas slipped free of their arms and rolled towards the flame. He got within four feet of the house before catching fire and burning to ash instantly.

"...I feel like we could have done more to prevent that," Adora said, stuffing the gift for Tupac down her blouse, as she did not have pockets on her outfit.

"Man, Cattos are not safe to keep around fire," Glimmer said. "Anyway, let's make out and warm up by the fire before we hitchhike back home. Or should we go for the cops to try and save mom?"

"Sounds good to me," Adora said. "The making out and the saving mom thing."

"Hot damn," Glimmer said, and the two made out again.

* * *

 **10 AM:**  
The Inter-Chicago Funfaire raged on the VILE lawn.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Countess Hot said. "Why are there so many civilians on VILE property? Why are they having so much fun? Who even zoned that Tilt-a-Whirl?!" she said, pointing at a dangerously wobbly-looking Tilt-a-Whirl. "We're going to get so very sued-- _you_!"

Catra stood nearby, leaning nonchalantly on a pole. "Yawn. What's up, Hot? Like the party I arranged? Turns out this place is just right size to throw a heckuva shindig. Put in a protip to the funfaire committee last night while you suckers were resting your eyes.

"Oh, you little hooligan," Countess Hot said. "When I get my hands on you--"

A bucket of slime tilted overhead and splattered Countess Hot. Her pupils turned to pinpricks. She grabbed the sides of her head and shrieked loud enough to crack glass, if she were close enough to any, and slunk to her sticky knees in horror.

"The hell?" Black Gold said, concerned for her boss but not really wanting to touch her.

"Don't you know?" Catra said, sauntering into view with a freshly-pulled bucket-string in her hand. "If the dean of an institute of higher learning gets slimed, their institute loses accredition. That's in [College Pranks 101](https://twitter.com/dril/status/603681362479026177?lang=en). Isn't that right, Spike?"

Spike, the ambiguous cat thing, hopped in place. "It sure is, Goddess Catra!"

"Well!" Black Gold said. "That means I'm not getting paid, so... see ya." She headed off in the direction of a food stand that promised corn dogs.

"Fair dinkum," Australia said, abandoning his boss to her meltdown. Oh, she was still melting down pretty bad, add a few exclamation points to every sentence you see spoken for the next few paragraphs.

"Mmm," Sex Witch said, fiddling with deadly origami shuriken, "it seems I'm in need of a new paycheck. Don't suppose you can pay me, Catra?"

"I sure-ass can," Catra said. "Now come on, babe, let's blow this pop stand, I got places to be, asses to kick."

Sex Witch scooped her up. "What about your cult?"

A few dozen men and women, et cetera, in spooky robes stood nearby.

"Oh... we'll... come back... for them. Keep it real, bitches," Catra said, waving at them as Sex Witch carried her to a bitchin' Harley Davidson and the two rode off in the direction of Scorpia's digs in the depths of Chicago.

"Are we, though?" Sex Witch said once they were out of earshot of the still-screaming Countess Hot.

"Nope," Catra said from the milk crate tied to the handlebars. "Those suckers brought the mood too damn down. I strive for a certain irreverent comedy in my murders, you know? They made it too damn serious."

Back at the fair, the cultists muttered amongst themselves (with several exclamation points added to the mumbling, as Captain, I mean Countess Hot was still at it). "Well!" one of the cultists said, "Since we have time, how about we check out that haunted house? That looks fun."

He pointed to a haunted house. The sign out front claimed NOW HAS BEEN SAF-T TEST!

The cult agreed and filed one-by-one into the haunted house. They were all dead within five minutes.

* * *

...

...

Uh...

To be continued.


	6. Curly's Gold of the Legend

Adora and Glimmer ran screaming from the creepy backwoods house and onto a passing truck. Not that they hailed the truck, they gunned it up a hill and took a flying leap into the flatbed. Glimmer whacked her leg on the tailgate, but at least they both landed inside, and the house they left behind burned and exploded in that order.

Glimmer flopped her arm around 'til the knife stuck in the flatbed. "Oh my God, I could've cut myself open! We were trying to avoid that!"

"Jesus _fuck_ ," Adora said, "that's the second time we've had to jump into a truck today. What with the chainsaw guy, and now the knife guy... who somehow was an escalation compared to chainsaw guy... how the fuck does that happen?"

"This has not been our week," Glimmer said, resting her head on the wheelwell. "In fact, let's make it official: we are having a bad week."

"It's just been two days," Adora said, sitting up against the tailgate. "We haven't even gotten the week started. ... But maybe it means we're just having a bad weekend."

"What day is it again?" Glimmer said.

"I don't remember."

"If the guy driving us isn't a murderer, we'll ask him."

"Cool." Adora slumped over. "I'm gonna take a nap."

Neither of them noticed Catra and Mouth Sex rocketing past them on a bitchin' motorbike. And the truck driver also turned out to be a murderer, so that delayed their homecoming yet again.

* * *

Sex Witch ramped off a convenient ramp, backflipping off the bike mid-air and flinging a handful of razor-sharp origami stars at said bike. Catra rolled out of the milk crate just before the stars sliced through the bike, making it explode.

They each stuck a three-point superhero landing outside a dingy apartment in downtown Chicago, snow swirling around them. Super cool.

"So this is where the nerd awaits?" Sex Witch said.

"Yep," Catra said. "She's some kind of toy nerd. I figure, I'll ask her how to figure out this thing that I've become and... stuff. You know, make a research roll."

"Shall I join you?"

"I'll whistle if I need you. I'm a badass murderer, you know," Catra said, walking down the steps to the basement entrance. Or whatever those things are.

Sex Witch looked around for something to sit on that didn't look too gross.

* * *

The humble apartment complex--humble to all but the colony of sentient cockroaches that infested every room above ground level, for whom it was a kingdom unmatched, full of delicious garbage and unattended children--had a secret even more dire than that cockroach bomb I just dropped on you. For in its fastidiously-maintained basement, a place, perhaps, a wise papa roach will declaim to his protagonistic son as the last line between angels and insects, there dwells the mighty and unstoppable Scorpia.

There in the depths of the apartment complex, the mighty Scorpia--six feet tall, three feet wide, two hundred thirty pounds of muscle padded with dense fat--was putting the finishing touches on her script for tonight's internet broadcast.

"You're gonna have a hell of a premiere, Rockin' Romance Jem," Scorpia said, patting the doll's enormous hair. "The internet is gonna flip their lid. And if you don't know what the internet is, it's like a bunch of computers attached by phone line, and they all wanna see me--"

There was a knock on the door and Scorpia screamed in terror. "...Wait! Just a sec!" She rapidly doffed the most incriminating parts of her internet outfit and sped to the door, pushing it open. She looked around. "Mmmmyello?" she said. "Anybody there? Muggers? Ghosts? ... Nuns from another universe abandoning princess babies...?"

She looked down, and saw something well beyond her greatest dreams.

A level 3 Catto's Play doll stood, arms crossed. "Hey," she said. "You're Scorpia, right? That toy expert chick?"

"Yes," she said, hoping she wasn't drooling. "Oh, man, you guys are so hard to find and so damn expensive! Why did you choose to come to me, tonight, of all nights?"

"I need to get to my max level real fast and eating thousands of bucks didn't do it. Can you hack me or some shit?"

"I can," Scorpia said, "if, you know, you let me take a look at you and confirm some suspicions. ... Can I pick you up? Take you in?"

The cat doll sighed. "Sure. Whatever."

Scorpia knelt, heart pounding in her chest so loudly it was downright dizzying. "What's your name?"

"Catra."

"Catra..." Scorpia whimpered, awestruck.

She picked the doll up and carried her into her shop.

* * *

Catra admired the creepy basement. There were a lot of exposed pipes, including a big metal pipe with a WARNING: THIS PIPE BECOMES DANGEROUSLY HOT IF YOU TURN THE HEAT UP! sign dangling from it. She didn't know if that was how it worked, per se, but it was cool. Also, virtually everything had a microphone pickup attached to it, even the little hand Dustbuster sitting in the corner. There was also a camera that took up the entire back wall, attached to a computer which may look primitive to your jaded millenial eyes, but this is the late eighties, dammit. Let go of your cynical inner nature and stare in awe at the early webcam that takes pictures, converts them into simple ASCII text blocks, and posts them to bulletin board systems.

...and which did not only take up the back wall, but half the apartment complex overhead.

Okay, 80s computer tech was garbage.

"Are you done back there?" Catra said, once the narration stopped blathering its opinions to the fourth wall.

"Just a sec..." Scorpia said, rooting around with tiny, precise tools deep inside Catra.

No phrasing. Fully intentional.

"Yep," Scorpia said. "Just like I thought. A diagnostics button. Open your mouth, I'm about to push something."

"Sure," Catra said, opening her mouth. Scorpia pressed a tiny button inside Catra's roboguts and a canned voice began to speak through her mouth: "Evolution diagnostic begins now. Level 1: No dollar amount. Level 2: 30 dollars. Level 3: 10 dollars. Level 4: 19,790 dollars. Level 5: 20 dollars. Please evolve again to hear the next level-up reward."

Scorpia whistled. "Bad luck on the RNG. Now you gotta get 19,800 bucks from somewhere."

"...but I did," Catra said. "I choked down 19,800 dollars, dammit!"

"Oh, all at once?"

"Yeah, obviously."

Scorpia pat her head. "You poor little bastard. However much you eat at once counts as one thing. And there's no rollover. That's why you gotta eat it up one bill at a time."

Catra turned her head 180 degrees to stare at Scorpia. "Could you repeat that?"

"I mean, I could," Scorpia said. "But I have a feeling like that you don't mean it literally?"

"You're saying I don't have, like, a bank balance? If I go over, there's not a goddamn thing I can do?"

"Yeah, actually, that's the gist of it. You got it in one go! That's real--"

"Get your junk out of my junk."

"--okay," Scorpia said, withdrawing her tools and closing Catra back up. "You got a plan, kitty?"

"Yep," Catra said, standing up on Scorpia's worktable. "Those microphones. What do they do?"

"Oh, it's real cool!" Scorpia said, standing up. "I can just shout, like, 'Hey, microwave, turn on popcorn setting!'" The microwave turned on the "open door and shoot microwaves everywhere" setting. "Hey microwave, stop that shit!" Scorpia said. After a few seconds the microwave obeyed. "The tech is in its infancy but it's very cool."

"Hm," Catra said. "So... if I say... 'Go go gadget springboard...'"

Scorpia launched into the air via a springboard. "Whee!" Scorpia said, spinning midair and grabbing a pair of scorpion-claw-shaped gloves. She grabbed the heating element pipe and twirled around it like a gymnast.

"Hey, pipe!" Catra said. "Turn on six billion degrees and kill Scorpia!"

"Rude!" Scorpia said. "I'm just the bearer of bad news! Plus, maybe I could fix you or something. Imagine if we could, like, rejigger your limits so they were all, like, ten cents or something!"

"Less smart, more die," Catra said, tapping her feet.

"Nah," Scorpia said, waving vaguely with one claw. "These things, like, are amazing at not catching on fire? So I could hang up here all day. I have before, in fact. Body-weighte exercise!" She did a few chin-ups, blowing her hair out when it caught on fire.

"...dammit." Catra looked around and saw what else whe could activate. "Hey, a band saw. That looks like it'd hurt if you landed on the thing and... you know... sorta slid up into it. Could you do that?"

"Maybe?" Scorpia said. "If I hear the magic word, that is~"

Catra curtseyed. "Oh, miss Scorpia, would you kindly jump to your death, please?"

"Sure!" Scorpia said, jumping onto the band saw table. The entire machine perished beneath her mighty bulk.

"Aaaagh!" Catra said. "Why the hell did you outfit your basement with a million death traps if not so I could kill you with them?!"

"For the roaches," Scorpia said, shrugging. "I gotta keep my place pristine for all the internet stuff I post. It's how I make my extra cash, yo."

"Did you say cash?" Catra said. "And did I hear you say that you were interested in making me level up, or was that me projecting onto a vague statement like I'm known to do?"

"Oh man, I really wanna see you reach max level," Scorpia said, taking off her claws. "Also: hey, pipe, cool it off a bit. It's gonna get all muggy in here." The pipe listened. "I don't think I can switch you manually here, but I know someone who could."

"Like, know-know, or..."

"I don't know 'em or anything," Scorpia said, "but I do know who could. The Mattel alpha factory is in this very city called Chicago, and the CEO is here for Christmas and New Year! If anyone could set you right, I could take you right to her."

"I like the sound of that," Catra said. "But I got a feeling, too. A feeling like you're gonna ask for a favor."

Scorpia scratched her hair, awkwardly. "Well... kinda. See, when I said I have this thing I do on the internet? It's a toy show. I do..."

"Reviews and crap?" Catra said.

"Yeah," Scorpia said. "I have a very special audience and I have a lot of fans, and... well... I've never been able to get my hand on a Catto. They'd go nuts if I could... review... one. Can you... would you... be so kind as..."

"Sure," Catra said. "Bring me to who we have to kick the ass of, and I'll say yes to your nerdy internet crap."

Scorpia gasped. "Really?!"

"Sure," Catra sighed.

Scorpia squealed. "Oh my God, you're the best, Catra!"

"Yep," Catra said.

"Gimmie a sec, I just gotta--freshen up."

* * *

Scorpia smiled into the camera with a near-manic intensity. "Hey, internet! It's me, Scorpia, and it's time for the latest episode of my internet show: Aw, Hecks, Toy Sex! Today, we're gonna be making love to a level 2 Catto's Play doll--named Catra! Take a look, internet!"

She held out Catra. "Wait. What was that about--"

"We're gonna be doing it on camera for the Internet," Scorpia said. "Cool, yeah?"

"...lemme... lemme digest this a sec."

"Of course! Meanwhile... ah, we have a question from a subscriber!" Scorpia balanced a tiny pair of reading glasses on the end of her nose and leaned in close to the screen. "'Dear Scorpia, I recently purchased the Dominator 2000 Mega Dildo. I have concerns it may not be the safest thing to put inside an intimate bodily cavity. What's your call on this particular model of sex toy? Signed, your admirer, ChampBlocker_1968.'" Scorpia doffed her glasses. "I have a rule of thumb for these kinds of things: if it's longer than it is wide, you're golden! Maybe spit on it a little first. Speaking of..."

She set Catra on the computer desk and retrieved the thing she had removed earlier to answer the door. Catra watched her pick it up and strap it on, all four straps. Her new minion checked the reserves in its gas tank, then primed it and yanked on the ripcord.

"You ready to have a good time, Catra~?" Scorpia said.

"S-sure," Catra said.

"The safe word is 'taxes,'" Scorpia said, approaching her.

"Alright..." Catra said. "Let's fuckin' do this."

"Pun not intended~"

"Well, kind of, but--eeeeeee _eeeeeeeeek!!!_ "

* * *

Mouth Sex knocked on the door. No response. Her new boss had been silent for too long--there was no telling what could've gone wrong.

She flicked a few origami stars between her fingers and sliced through the simple bolt-lock. She turned the handle and pressed the door in, peeking inside.

She saw Scorpia and Catra and what they were doing.

She closed the door and felt very, very confused.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Scorpia, in a fluffy and bright-pink coat, hiked out with Catra in hand. "Hi, new friend!" she said, holding out one hand.

Very hesitantly, Oral Sex Witch held out hers for a firm, businesslike handshake. "So, how was it in there?" she said.

Catra looked her in the eyes. "You know how there's, like, three places where the average lady can take some action?"

"Some of us prefer one more than others," Sex Witch said, one finger on her notoriously sexual mouth.

"It turns out this body has one sex hole," Catra said. "And that was the pencil case."

"...Did you enjoy it?" Mouth Sex said.

" _I don't know,_ " Catra said.

"So..." Scorpia said. "Do we have a car or something?"

* * *

At that very moment, Adora unsheathed and primed her second short-chainsaw. She struck a pose with both her shortsaws, and the human-leather-clad cannibal chainsawman revved up and matched blades with her.

So while they had chainsaws they did not have a car, which meant that Catra and Scorpia and Sex Witch were soon one vehicle up on them.

* * *

The cult was still very, very dead.


	7. There's A Big Storm Coming, And I Don't Care; There's A Big Storm Coming, And I Don't Care; So, Ooh, Baby, Just Gimmie My Ticket To Hell!

The CEO of Mattel popped her back. "Ah, dang," she said, "that last meeting was so dang boring. At least I'm done for the rest of the week... which means it's time for nine vacation days! Hot diggity!" She left her posh office and got into her posh car. "And now, to celebrate with a little Crimmis Eve night-driving."

She briefly thought she heard a robust female voice from the back seat: "Did she just say 'Christmas eve?'"

"I guess it is?" a smaller, perhaps somewhat bitchier voice said.

"Be quiet, please," a spookily-accented voice said.

"My, I must be stir-crazy from the crazy Christmas schedule I, the CEO of Mattel, have been working under," the CEO said. She pulled down an enormous pair of goggles. "Ah, well! Time to enjoy a nice, pleasant night drive to take my mind off of my incredibly busy schedule." She turned the key and put the vehicle in drive and drove into the glossy 80s night.

She had hardly turned right twice before a Catto's Play doll put a big stringy string-arm around her neck. "Hey there, shitheel," she said.

"Oh, hello," the CEO said. "My name's Entrapta! Entrapta Mattel. What's your name, Catto?"

"The name is Catra. And you don't bat-ra 'round the Catra." She took Entrapta's head in her hands and attempted to slam it into the steering wheel. As she was behind the headrest and her arms didn't go that far and Entrapta didn't want to be moved, she got nowhere.

"Are you using some kinda new head massage technique on me?" Entrapta said. "Because frankly I'm kind of digging it. Who's your programmer? Mitch? Tiny Robert?"

"I'm trying to do murders on you!" Catra said. "Curse this suddenly underperforming robot body... that I now realize has not really reliably performed in a hot minute! Shit, I've been running on pure Charm+Lie rolls for like a day!"

"Hey, boss," the scary-voiced--okay, it was Sex Witch, let's drop this nobody-knows-anybody's-name bit--Sex Witch said. "Should we rough her up for you?"

"Are you hearing those imaginary voices too, Catra?" Entrapta said.

"They're not--okay, Oral Sex, give 'er the business."

Oral Sex jumped up from hiding in the back seat, making a 1080 twirl in mid-air (they were in a convertible), landed straddling Entrapta, and purred directly in her face. "I'm going to ruin you for every other woman," she said, and lowered herself 'til her face was lap-level with Entrapta.

"Hello?" Entrapta said. "I'm not entirely certain what's going on here but--ah, you appear to be removing my pants and undergarments. You know, straight up, you have me in the dark, but I'm curious where youuuuuhhhhh ohhhh man. Ohhhh man. Please continue."

"This works too," Catra said, rolling her eyes.

"...hey, uh, not to second-guess your plans, magic alive doll?" Scorpia said. "But did you want her to, like, murder her? Don't we need her for our plans?"

"I dunno, man," Catra said. "I just... I just really like killing people. Sometimes I think it's my reflexive reaction to anything. It's either, oh, make that person die, or try to have sex with someone, no in-betweens. Maybe, sometimes, sex first and then the killing."

"You need to get some calmness in your heart, Catra. You gotta make a snap decision that isn't murder once in a while, you know? ... Though, while I'm thinking about it, gotta say, big fan of that time you killed the Queen."

"Heh, yeah, that was classic," Catra said. "I stole her heart figuratively, and then, I stole her heart literally. ...God, I hope it didn't explode when I killed Shadow Weaver, or get looted or something. Damn, man..."

Scorpia pinched her little dolly cheek. "See? Consequences for murdering first. Let's make this your first step to a more mindful life. We're gonna have a nice, nonviolent solution to helping us perform some murders. ... It _is_ murder, right?"

Catra counted. "Let's see... kill the guy that killed me... maybe kill the fat chick sister of the lady I wanna bang... bang a lady... and maybe bang her ma. Okay, two murders, two sexes that will happen after or alongside the murders. So, only fifty-fifty murder versus non-murder."

"That's a good starting point! Now, let's think about something you've solved non-violently recently, and see how you can apply it here. I heard something about Charm+Lie checks--what have you solved with lying recently?"

"I tricked a hot bitch into getting slimed, which ruined her life. Maybe we can try it again, it worked pretty well last time. Hey, Entrapta, do you know where we can get some slime?"

"Ahhhh--we make the finest toy slime in the world!" Entrapta said truthfully. "You wanna slime somebody?"

"I miiiiiiight..." Catra said. "I might have a few other requests, too. You liking the oral sex?"

"Yes, in fact!" Entrapta panted. "This is really pleasant! I am a big fan of this!"

"Then help us out with what we need and Sex Witch will keep the oral sex coming. Phrasing intended. Sound agreeable?"

"Yes!" Entrapta said. "Oh, as surely as I am finding this enjoyable, yes!"

Sex Witch gave a thumbs up, as her mouth was occupied.

"See?" Scorpia said, patting Catra's head. "Nonviolent solutions!"

Entrapta took her hands off the wheel and screamed in sheer pleasant enjoyment. The car turned a gentle right, for, you see, Entrapta's car was a little electric kiddie-ride car on an indoor track that simulated an idealized Chicago night sky.

"Finish up, Sex Witch," Catra said. "We've got a couple steps on the Grand Tour yet to go."

"M-hm," Oral Sex Witch said, and did just that.

"Aaaaaahhhhoooohhh thank you very mu-u-ch!" Entrapta said.

* * *

Angella hesitantly turned off the hot water at last.

The water bill was going to be ludicrous this month, but truth be told, she didn't gee eh eff. The single bright spot today had been making her new friends in the drunk tank; Adora and Glimmer were still off somewhere in the massive, harsh world in a time before cell phones and social networks (not that she knew what either of those things were). It would be a long, agonizing search to be reconnected with her children, an epic quest indeed. She would have left to find them the instant she escaped jail if she had not needed to shower for half a day to finally feel clean again.

And, you know, eat. She's not a machine or nothin'.

So she stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around her waist, turned around, and appearing from just off-screen was a giant, white-haired woman who gently put her massive hand on Angella's shoulder. "Hi," the giant said.

"Oh, shit!" Angella said, stumbling back into a terrifyingly sexy Japanese girl with a horned hairdo--a devil's haircut in her mind. "Excuse me," Angella said, "could you help me with the giant, smallish specter of evil?"

"I'm with the giant," the specter of evil said.

"And the spook is with me," Catra said, suddenly present in the sink.

"How did you all do that?!" Angella said.

"Classic scary girl trick," the scary girl said. "Hi, I'm Paper-Themed Oral Sex Witch."

"And I'm Scorpia!" said Scorpia.

"Pleased to meet--" Angella said, preparing a one-liner, before a lady with gigantic pigtails and a snappy suit jumped up in front of her, eliciting a terrified shriek from Angella that totally drowned out her intro. Sex Witch grabbed her by the upper arms, defeating her instantly. "Nnnhh--let me go, curse you all!"

"Nah," Catra said. "Where you keep your money at?"

* * *

Bow sighed inwardly. It had been a lovely day the last day, but the adventure had stumbled to a close and now he was driving alone down the Chicago streets at twilight, shooting no perps, saving no worlds. It was just him and his charge for the day. The sudden lack of adventure and sex was getting to him.

"See any good movies lately?" Bow said.

"Naaah," Frosta said from the passenger seat. Frosta was a rising star in the hip-hop music scene, and she had been handed off to Bow to keep safe in case literally anybody from either coast or the Dirty Third saw fit to have her exploded. For she was from Alaska and she was not very good at integrating with any other rap scene. It is important to note she was wearing a Lisa Frank fur-trimmed coat, snow boots, and unideal sunglasses given the time of day.

"Ah, that's unfortunate. Heard any good music?"

"Made some, that's for damn sure. Can you turn up the air conditioning?"

"It's on full blast, m'am."

"Yeah, I'm from Alaska? So this is like I'm getting my face getting pressed into a griddle by Surtr from his vacation home in a Hawaiian lava flow while Pele is--hang on, I'm gonna need to write this down. This is going into a song." She pulled out a Hello Kitty notebook and wrote down her thoughts.

"It's like thirty degrees out! Farenheit!"

"And it's negative forty back home, babe. I. Am. BOILING."

Bow sighed. "I'll try and drive into a snow drift." He adjusted his rearview mirror, and with a dramatic violin sting he bore witness to a gigantic war machine.

His car was being followed by an incredibly stupid-looking armored vehicle, tub-shaped, its fore shaped like a cerotopsian head with four horns facing forward on its frill instead of someplace more reasonable. It was set asymmetrically on its chassis, the right wheels engulfed by the armored hull and the left more exposed, with a gigantic studded mace mounted on a swinging arm on the front left wheel.

And crammed into its single front seat was a giant lady, a smaller spooky lady, and a My-Size two-and-a-half-foot-tall doll version of--

"Catra," Bow snarled. "Jesus, take the wheel." He rolled down the driver-side window, unbuckled his seat, and climbed onto the roof.

Frosta grunted, unbuckled, slid to the driver's side, re-buckled, and shouted, "I can't drive, you know!"

"You can now." Bow nocked an arrow and aimed it at the big lady. "Attention!" he said, kicking the foot pedal that turned on the light and siren, "Lay down your giant mace attached to your vehicle and let me beat your ass!"

"I'd rather not allow my ass to be beaten!" Catra shouted back. She had actual arms and legs now, though they had no articulation besides at the shoulder and hip. She pointed. "Kick his ass, kids!"

"Yosh!" Scorpia said, tapping the accelerator and closing the gap.

Sex Witch hopped onto the quadraceratops head, shrieked like a banshee (or like a yurei, whichever is more culturally appropriate) and flung a handful of origami shuriken at the wheels of his car.

The back wheels popped at once, the resulting kick sending Bow's shot wildly off-course and right through the last Atitlan grebe, which had moved to Chicago to try and write its memoirs to preserve the memory of her species.

"Oh, ish," Bow said.

The white-haired woman smacked a button on the console, causing the giant club to swing overhead and smash the trunk. The impact sent Bow flying into the air, screaming (understandably) and landing on Catra's fist as she jumped up to punch him in the head. Bow took a hard landing on his back on the humped back of the monster vehicle.

Sex Witch folded a six-foot-long greatsword and held it to Bow's throat. "The game ends here, detective."

" _Ahahahahoowww_ ," Bow said.

"Bitchin'!" Catra said. "Now get me his wallet and toss it over here!"

"As you please," Sex Witch said, kneeling over Bow, keeping her blade trained across his throat as she rooted through his pants.

Scorpia hit another button on the console and Bow's car came along with the club, making terrific noises as the metal contorted and ripped apart with the help of gravity. It rested across the back of the vehicle, killing its already pretty lousy land-speed.

"And now, the drive home," Scorpia said.

"Hey, I'm still here?" Frosta said from the driver's seat. "Can I go back to the hotel? I got a nitrogen bath waitin' for me. I'm leakin' HP over here!"

"You'll be fine, kid!" Catra said. "Who the hell is that, anyway?"

"Feisty Fine Frosta," Bow said. "She's cute as the dickens but she just can't stop saying the 'n' word."

By the way, if you feel like it, sprinkle the N word in all of Frosta's sentences so far.

* * *

Adora checked to see if her key still fit in the lock. Blessedly, nobody had changed it in the time the two were gone. She had a vague feeling like the cops might do that for the hell of it.  
"We're home!" Adora said, leaning into the door. She had her new short-chainsaws in hand just in case there were boglins or country boys inside ready to pick a fight, but no, just an empty apartment and an enormous message written on the walls in spare green paint from when they redid the bathroom.

HEY ADORA  
WANNA DATE?  
MEET ME AT  
THE MATTEL(tm)  
FACTORY  
\--CATRA  
~and Scorpia  
\--紙の星

Adora smacked her forehead, forgetting she still had both chainsaws equipped, and smashed her forehead with a bulky power tool hard enough to knock herself out cold. Glimmer helped her to her feet. "'mup! I'm up. Fuck, why is everything so blurry?"

"Wash up and gas up the saws," Glimmer said. "We're gonna settle this hash or our names aren't collectively Glimmer and Adora Morningstar."

"Uuuugghhh. Why the hell did that little doll have to raise even more of a fuss? It's been a long, suck-ass day, I don't need to fight yet more thrillbillies and tick-pimps."

"It's like the saint will one day say," Glimmer said, giving Adora an affirming pat on the ass, "'Some motherfuckers always tryin' to ice skate uphill.'"

"Amen to that," Adora said. "Wanna make out a bit first, for luck?"

She did, so they did.

* * *

Entrapta threw a cup of cold water in Angella's face.

"Ptoo--Stygian depths, woman!" Angella said, sputtering, "I wasn't asleep!"

"I know," Entrapta said. "I'm just seeing if that's my fetish or not. I'm suddenly really, like, sexually aware! It's kinda nuts. Like this thing I have you tied up in!"

She gestured to the enormous construct Angella was tied up in, a free-standing wall with a fake dinosaur skull on top and a stony washtub kind of deal that reached thigh height for the curvaceous angel.

"Where... where are we?" Angella said, the camera pulling back for a setting reveal at last.

Witness: a technicolor nightmare of mechanical deathtraps, free-standing chemical vats, buttons that do Christ-knows-what, multiple actual monsters, and dozens of ominous Catra's-face logos slapped on everything.

"The Chicagoland Mattel factory," Entrapta said. "We like to get in character."

"What is this you've got me trapped in?" Angella said.

"Oh, that's the Evil Horde Slime Pit," Entrapta said. "We made a life-size one for some amusement park thingey a few years ago. It's basically this thing that dumps slime on your toys and in the lore it makes them into slime-covered slaves who obey Hordak's every command, no matter how depraved."

"...that's... how is that appropriate for children? That's horrendously kinky."

"You're telling me!" Entrapta said. "If it weren't for that nice lady giving me head I'd be existing in perpetual ignorance of how perverted it is. Ah, well, to-may-to, po-tah-to. Worst thing happens, some stupid kid gets a weird fetish that haunts him his entire life, manifesting outwardly in him slipping in constant overly-obscure references in fanfiction 'til, against all odds, there's a massively successful revival of his fetish's source material giving him free rein to write a novel's worth of fucked-up needlessly-dark girls-getting-slimed porn, ironically perpetuating the overly-dark slime-and-mind-control-fetish porn that so frustrated him as the sole source of his fetish in literary form for over a decade!"

Angella blinked. "What?"

"We're going to slime you."

"Not again," Angella groaned.

"Yup," Entrapta said, making focused eye contact across the fourth wall. "Again. Just as soon as Catra gets back in the Ball Buster... I mean, Bashasaurus. Yeah, that's what we wound up calling it. And then your daughters will probably show up. And then? Climax city, baby!"

"Joy," Angella said.

"Hopefully! Stay tuned, readers!"

* * *

...please?


End file.
